


The Choices You Can't Take Back

by shingo_the_pest



Category: Doom (2005), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Character Death, F/M, Gore, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-10-27
Updated: 2010-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2104863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shingo_the_pest/pseuds/shingo_the_pest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy has kept his past and real identity a secret. He's operated as a mercenary behind Starfleet's back multiple times. But what happens when he gets caught and arrested for an attempted assassination? </p><p>Jim is forced to charge his best friend as a criminal, and he's torn between trusting Bones or losing all faith. Will McCoy reveal how old and powerful he really is? Unless they find a way out of this, he may be forced to go on the run. And there's still a bad guy out there, who Reaper failed to kill, and who now wants revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****

**Title** : The Choices You Can't Take Back (Gonna Give All My Secrets Away)  
 **Rating** : R  
 **Warnings** : violence, angst, gore, characters death, implications to incest

**Part 1**

The patient twitched and convulsed. Dr. McCoy locked eyes with the suffering Ambassador Hetherman and he could tell that the dying man hated him. McCoy stared back calmly, unmoved as he counted the ambassador’s dying gasps. Weakly, Hetherman reached up towards his killer, hand shaking as he tried to grab McCoy by the shirt. The toxin worked quickly through the ambassador's system, and his arm couldn’t hold steady. McCoy paid no attention as the hand slapped against his chest, flailing from lack of muscular control, and grabbed his blue medical shirt.

Finally the ambassador's cardiovascular system could take no more. The man’s eyes rolled back, his spine arched, and he hung suspended off the medical bed for one long moment. Then he collapsed, limp. His hand let go of McCoy's shirt and fell to the side of the bed.

Calmly, McCoy pressed his fingers to the ambassador’s wrist, and checked for a pulse. He counted out sixty seconds, and confirmed that there was no beat.

Assured the ambassador was dead, McCoy turned on the medical bed. Immediately, the sensors began whaling in alarm.

He looked over his shoulder, passed the privacy screens, and yelled, "Chapel! Chapel, he's gone under! I need help!"

"So you lost Ambassador Hetherman?" Jim asked.

Bones nodded. He was stretched out across the sofa, his feet dangled over the armrest and his head in Jim's lap. "Yeah.” He heaved a sigh. “But I don't really wanna talk about it." He would give his explanations on paper. The less he talked, the less likely he would say something incriminating. He would much rather just enjoy this private moment between just the two of them in Jim’s quarters.

"No problem," Jim sympathetically ran his fingers through Bones’ hair. Jim knew nothing of the murder, and Bones would keep it that way. Jim’s hands felt good on Bones’ scalp, and he gradually traced his fingers down to McCoy’s naked collar bone. Bones opened his eyes just enough to meet Jim’s playful gaze. "What if I distract you from your bad day?" Jim teased.

Bones breathed out and just the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his grouchy mouth. "I wouldn't mind that."

Jim grinned and trailed his fingers down farther, over the flat panes of Bones' chest, feeling the rise and fall of the doctor’s breath. Jim smoothed his hand over the hard, flat muscles. McCoy reached up and grasped Jim’s hand, and then sat up for a kiss.

In the morning, McCoy received an encrypted message that said, "The egg has been delivered." It simply confirmed that payment for the job had been received.

He felt a bit guilty as he watched Jim take a call from the Admiralty about the ambassador’s death. A very important person had died in the Enterprise’s care, and Jim would be under scrutiny. He didn’t enjoy putting Jim up for the blame that was about to be thrown about.

And he would protect Jim from it. His report on the Ambassador’s death would show cardiovascular failure due to ill health and susceptibility to disease. Jim would not be held accountable for this.

Bones felt sorry for the trouble this caused, but he wasn't sorry for the assassination. Hetherman could take his Romulan gold to the grave with him.

A second message arrived in the morning: a new mission offer. It simply said, "Assassination: Kheje Blumkrest. 10,000 CR."

Strange, that wasn’t much money.

Kheje Blumkrest was a wealthy merchant on Deep Space Three, and was suspected to have made his way into the pocket of the station's commander. Blumkrest was known to be an unkind man and a loan shark. Perhaps whoever had placed the hit thought 10,000 credits was better than 50,000 credits of debt.

In several days the Enterprise would reach DS3, the newest and farthest most space station maintained by the Federation. It had a mostly Human and Andorian population, though there were many minorities there. The Enterprise had supplies to deliver, and up until last night, an ambassador to deliver too. Ambassador Hetherman’s new assignment would have been on DS3. Instead they would be leaving his body there.

Strange that there was so much activity going on around DS3 right now. Two assassinations within weeks, much less days, of each other were not usual. The cautious part of McCoy’s mind warned him that he might want to distance himself. The just and fair dealing part of him couldn’t help but wonder and worry why someone had only been able to afford a 10,000 CR mark. Few assassins would bother taking a job worth so little. The offer would probably sit for months, maybe years.

And the bored part of him, the part that longed to hold a large, heavy assault weapon again, the part that hadn't felt a real adrenaline rush in far too long, that part of him thought this might be fun.

Death of a high profile passenger was depressing, but not the cause for Scotty’s reluctance to start the day. He had inventory to finalize and important reports that couldn’t be filed without it. He would really much rather be working with the moving parts of the Enterprise, but unfortunately junk paperwork came with the job.

Inventory was less boring when physically counting it. But that was two days prior and this was the part where he had to sit down and compare the numbers side by side, then put his official seal of approval on the documents. If he enjoyed that type of thing, he would have gone into Science track. But Scotty was at the top of his department now, and he couldn’t avoid the bureaucracy any longer.

And frustratingly enough, there was a discrepancy. His inventory of metal eater was low.

Hmm. Well, someone, somewhere had counted wrong. Or maybe Keenser ate it. He'd yell at the bugger later for it. Crazy bugger and his crazy alkaline stomach.

Checking the physical stock only proved the discrepancy was there. Scotty would prefer to just let the issue lie. But there's not much a Chief Officer can do to get around bureaucracy. Scotty would have to fill out the forms. He hated filling out forms.

Jim hated filling out forms. But it was better than just an hour earlier when he had stood in his dress uniform and given a summary of the ambassador’s death to the big brass. Now they were waiting for the written account. Bones' medical records gave most of the information, but as Captain, Jim still had to type up his own account of what happened, even though he had been nowhere near the ambassador when the man’s health took a turn for the worse.

It was still relatively early in the day, before 1300 hours. He was encrypting the reports when Bones knocked.

“Everything going well?” Bones asked, honestly concerned to hear about any trouble Jim had talking to the admirals.

Jim sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It went well enough. They want to find some way to blame me, but thankfully I really had no way of preventing Ambassador Heatherman's health. Back when I was a kid, I thought I was real good at getting out of the trouble I caused. But nothing could compare to the trouble I’m always on the edge of nowadays. I misbehaved as a kid, and always got away with it, and now as an adult, people want to hold me responsible for things I haven't done at all.” He shook his head ruefully.

Bones’ eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead, in a sad and sorry expression. “Are you really in trouble?”

“No, no, but there’s a bastard or two implying I could have prevented it in some way. Your medical report will save me Bones, don't worry.”

Bones walked around the executive desk and sat on the edge, close enough that he could reach out and touch Jim’s arm. “I’m glad to hear that. I won’t let anyone ever get to you.”

“I'm not letting it get to me. I just keep my head above the water, and pretend there are no sharks nipping at my heels. Cheer me up Bones. You came to talk?”

Bones folded his soft doctor’s hands over one knee. “I’d like to stay the night on Deep Space Three, and take two or three days as personal leave.”

A grin pulled at Jim’s mouth. He licked his lips. “Are you actually in the mood for some fun Dr. McCoy?”

“Maybe I am, kid. You up for that?”

“Hell yeah. Here, let me request a room, right now.”

“Two rooms.”

Jim’s enthusiasm waned, just a bit.

“Oh come, don’t give me that face Jim. It’s just for the books. Make it look like we slept apart.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Jim spread his arms, “What the hell does it matter what it looks like? Everyone out there on that Bridge,” he pointed his finger to the closed door of his office, “knows we’re sleeping together. Everyone in Medbay knows, everyone in the barracks, all the enlisted. It’s not a goddamn secret, Leonard.”

Bones eyebrows went up, the whites of his eyes showing silent offense. “Well excuse me for wanting to be discrete, _James_. Maybe the Admiralty wouldn’t look down their noses at you if you kept up appearances a little.”

The door opened and poor Scotty had the unfortunate luck of walking in at that moment.

"Captain, I've got the quarterly reports for you. Nothin’ too exciting, but I should mention something in our inventory is- ah, um…” Scotty stopped and stared at the captain, then at the doctor, and assessed how close they looked to strangling each other. “Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt..."

Jim smiled, the corners of his mouth tight. “Not a problem at all Scotty. What do you have?”

“Yes, Scotty. Sit. Stay. Enjoy the goddamn show.” McCoy’s voice was clipped and terser by the word.

“Well, uh, it's nothin’ too urgent.” Scotty laid a padd on Jim’s desk, giving the doctor a wide birth because the man looked ready to snap at something or someone. “These are just the quarterly reports from Engineering. It’s about ah hundred pages of junk and one page of real information.” Scotty swallowed as McCoy continued to glare at him like an intruder.

Jim quickly scanned through the report. He resisted the urge to push Bones off the desk. It would be funny to see Leonard flail his arms and fall on his bad-tempered ass. “Anything in particular I should pay attention to?”

“Um," The engineer's eyes darted again to the scowling and impatient doctor, "No Captain.”

“Then I’ll just read through the summary. I’ve got four more department reviews coming in, and Spock always thinks I need to be aware of every single detail. I appreciate you keeping it brief Scotty. You’re the easiest to work with out of all my department heads.”

McCoy turned away from Scotty to glare at Jim instead. “Oh really?”

Jim’s falsely polite smile turned a bit dour, but he didn’t even turn to look at his CMO.

Scotty eagerly took the dismissal. “I’m happy to work with ye Captain. Now unless there’s something you have for me, I think I’ll leave before your doctor hits his boiling point.” With a nod, Scotty quickly backed out of the room.

A few moments later McCoy left, still feeling a bit sour. He’d gotten his own room on the space station, and he’d also gotten a night in his own quarters this evening.

But he needed that single room on the space station, so that he could sneak away during the middle of the night, unnoticed. He didn’t want Jim’s curiosity or scrutiny.

Though he damn well wasn’t happy to be sleeping alone. He’d rather have Jim’s warm, restless body in his arms, kicking and snoring and touchable. They could have gone the whole trip without leaving each other’s side. But work came first, pleasure second.

He took a detour on his way back to Medbay, and watched from hiding as Scotty put away files on a haphazard and cluttered desk. Now that quarterly reports were done, the engineer could go back to taking care of the Enterprise. Missing inventory was on file, McCoy was sure of it, but it had not reached the Captain’s ears. He could hack into the records, and change the reports, and the issue would fade with time.

Like a ghost, McCoy slipped away.

Uhura ate her food slowly and quietly. If there was more company, she might be laughing and chatting happily. But the only other person in the mess room right now was Chekov, and he was strangely quiet.

"Is anything wrong?" She asked.

Chekov started. "Oh? No no! Nothing is wrong! I am just...tired. Not enough sleep."

Through the main communication lines, she had seen him exchange messages with his mother back in Russia. She had seen almost twenty messages back and forth between the two of them in the last week, and had seen his mood sink with each communication. "Is everything okay at home?"

"Oh yes, yes. My mother and father are fine," he nodded, smiling to reassure her. "You are from large family, yes? What are your sisters like?" She allowed him to steer the conversation away from himself.

McCoy spent the rest of the day with patients, and finishing up his own department reports. It had been silent without any comms or messages from Jim, who usually had something to say, friendly or playful, throughout the day. There hadn’t even been any kind of response from Jim when medical’s quarterly report was sent in, and McCoy felt irritated. He was tempted to go and start another fight. But he restrained himself, and made no visits to the Bridge.

He ate dinner alone, and almost went to his room to spend the evening by himself, with some bourbon and a decent book. Instead he got a comm from Christine Chapel.

_Come to the rec room with me. Pretend your masculine pride hasn’t been bruised._

He sighed. He considered it. At least showing up like usual would look better than sulking in his room for the rest of the night.

So he went and he took his bourbon with him.

"Leonard, I’m glad you showed." Chapel smiled at him, from her usual spot. He nodded his head to her in a friendly, but unenthusiastic greeting. He sat down in the chair next to her, casting a glance towards the Captain and Mr. Spock with their chess game. He and Chapel had a good view of the game from a couple meters away, and they could talk and watch as the Captain and the Commander battled.

"I thought about just staying in my room tonight,” he admitted.

“It would have looked like you were hiding,” she warned.

He snorted, and took a sip of his drink. “I would have been hiding. What the hell do I care how I look to any of these nosy bastards?” He raised his voice, and some of the other people in the rec room made a point of not looking his way.

Chapel was polite and cultured enough to mute her amusement. “Of course you don’t care what the crew thinks. But you wouldn’t want to admit weakness in front of the Captain, would you?”

Jim moved a rook, and kept his eyes on the board. Jimmy boy thought he could ignore his good doctor? McCoy smiled unpleasantly and lifted his glass in cheers to their game. Jim’s expression turned just a bit sourer, even though he still pointed was not looking in Bones’ direction.

If Jim couldn’t let go of something as petty as the room arrangements, it wasn’t Leonard McCoy’s fault.

Except maybe it was. Maybe the tenseness in Jim’s shoulders right now, the unhappy line in his flat mouth, the sigh of displeasure when Jim would normally being enjoying the game: that was Bones’ fault.

Bones was tempted to go over there and say something, an apology, or just, “Hey, I love you. I do.” But Jim would ask him again about sharing a room, because the kid had some crazy notion in his head that spending time with Bones was a pleasure, and he was going to push the issue until Bones gave in. But McCoy wasn’t going to agree to share a room, not on this trip, and the fight would just escalate until they really weren’t talking at all. So it was better if he stayed away from Jim for now. Even if he just wanted to go over there and say, “I’m sorry.”

McCoy turned his unpleasant smile towards Chapel. “So what's the good word Christine?"

Christine Chapel’s mood didn’t dampen a bit, and he would bet good money that she found the tart moods around her humorous. "Well, I've heard that Giotto from Security is sweet on Lieutenant Hanity from the Bridge."

"The tall, bulky man that Jim calls Cupcake? Heh, I wouldn't have pegged him for the interspecies type."

Chapel leaned in to tell him secretly, "Rumor is she might be a bit interested back."

McCoy snorted and shook his head. "I look forward to seeing how they get passed that anatomy problem."

Chapel swatted him on the shoulder for being so pessimistic, and McCoy grinned just a bit. He tried to hide it with a sip of whiskey.

"You given any thought to those classes?" He inquired.

Christine shrugged, and shook her head. For the first time her mood dampened.

"You'd make a good doctor," he encouraged.

She shrugged again. "Maybe. I'm...considering it." He didn't push the issue any further, for now. But he would bring it up again at the next opportunity. With his track record, he’d probably drive her off too. But it was true, Chapel would make a good doctor.

Spock moved a bishop, and both Jim and Chapel sat up straighter. McCoy looked more closely at the game, squinting his eyes in thought and seeing that Jim was offering his rook as a lure. McCoy lost interest at that point. "I don't know why any of you like that game."

Chapel glanced between the board and him. "It's good for thought."

"It was good for thought when it had just one board. I don't see the damn point of having three."

She ignored his complaining, and silence fell over their corner. Three of them paid attention to the game, the fourth sipped on alcohol and paying more attention to Jim than the board. Around them, the rec room quietly buzzed with evening activity.

Jim was sticking his bottom jaw out just a bit, and McCoy knew the kid was only half focused on the game. He would probably lose tonight. It wasn't Bones' fault. Maybe it was. He couldn't settle between obstinate or regret.

Chapel had let her hair down this night, and pulled it to the side in a loose ponytail.  She was watching all the moves Spock made closely, considering what she would do if it was her. Until she realized that McCoy's attention was on her, and not Kirk.

"Doctor?" She asked, confused by the attention. His gaze was unfocused, staring at her, but seeing beyond. He blinked twice, and then came back to the present.

"Sorry Christine. It's nothing."

She reached up to her head. His eyes followed her hand, lingered on her hair, and then he looked away, back to Jim.

Chapel felt uncomfortable, but the attention didn't seem inappropriate, sexual, or anything but just a tired mind unwinding.

"Is there something in my hair?"

He shook his head, watching Jim's hand move a knight. "No, it just reminds me of someone from long ago."

That night, Leonard McCoy dreamed of Samantha Grimm.

"John, let's stay here for a day,” she had asked, slumped against a pallet of brightly labeled kid's toys. The boxes read, "Battle Soldier, the Hero of the Galaxy!" Her hair was a tangled mess, the pale blond strands pulled to the side in a loose ponytail.

John Grimm had been looking out a filthy window, scanning the crowded streets for anyone suspicious. He believed they had lost the bounty hunters. For now.

"We should keep going, Sam.” He didn’t have much patience. Adrenaline was flowing through his veins. “We've lost them, and it's a good chance to make ground. We need to find a boat that will take us south." And they needed money to bribe that boat.

She had laughed, giggled like there was something funny about the situation. John had looked at her in aggravation.

"It's not funny Sam."

"Sure it is," she answered. She chuckled harder, and her shoulders shook.

"How?"

"It just is!" She took a few calming breaths, and leaned her head back, her neck long, slender and pale. John looked away.

"Crazy." He muttered.

"Yeah." Her voice was small now, like it had lost its smile. "Seriously John, can we stay here for a day? We've got until Monday before anyone notices we're in this warehouse. All weekend to rest." She sounded so tired, and John knew she had trouble keeping up.

He hooked his pistol in his hip harness, still wishing he had something bigger that wouldn't get them arrested on the spot, and sat down next to her. She leaned onto his shoulder. Neither of them had showered in days, and they were both covered in sweat and grime. He didn't mind, he had lived in jungle for months on end. But Sam was wearing down, and she wasn't regaining strength. She could walk, but her legs weren’t fully healed. They might never be. He wrapped his arm around her and she leaned into his warmth.

John wondered how they would get the money they needed. Sam hadn't eaten in twelve hours, John hadn't in two days. Maybe he could mug someone without the police noticing.

His sister breathed slowly in the crook of his arm. Her breathing was heavy and thick, like she had fluid in her lungs.

"Go to sleep Sam."

"Don't tell me what to do," she mumbled, eyes sliding shut. He felt just a hint of a tremble in her body.

Leonard McCoy woke up alone.

He reached to the side of his bed, where it was cold and empty, untouched. Shivering, though the air wasn’t cold, he sat up, and pulled on a robe.

Down the hall, and to the left, he punched his personal code into the captain’s quarters, and was relieved to see he hadn’t been locked out.

He crawled into the captain’s bed, and pulled Jim’s sleeping body into his arms. The kid cuddled complacently, mumbling, then falling asleep again.

“I love you,” Bones whispered to him in the safety of darkness.

He tucked Jim's head under his chin, and held on tight. He lay awake with Jim in his arms for the rest of the night, just like he had those many, many years ago with Sam.

Long ago, while he and Sam had been on the run from UAC, John Grimm had gotten the money they needed not by mugging anyone, but by mixing the plastic color dyes and the ammonia cleaning solutions at the warehouse to create crystallized explosives. It was the first item he ever sold on the black market. It also had been a wicked surprise for the UAC agents who were following them.

Jim trembled in his arms, and Bones ran a hand down his back, checking the strong, healthy muscles of Jim's body, feeling his healthy heartbeat, and easy breath. Jim was fine, just a little cold air, so Bones pulled the blanket up tightly around them.

They didn’t speak to each other in the morning, but Jim hadn’t fought when Bones pulled him in for an early morning kiss, slow and faltering.

They had gotten dressed together, silently, but that was usual. Just as they were ready to start the day, Jim had given him a peck on the lips and a teasing squeeze to the family jewels, before slipping out the door. It was a squeeze Bones had no way of reciprocating until that evening. Come the end of the day, the kid sure as hell was going to get what he asked for.

Confident all had been forgiven and forgotten, Bones headed out with a satisfied twitch on his lips. Today Medical would begin inoculations of all Enterprise crew, to prepare for docking at DS3. It was going to be busy.

In two days they would reach DS3, and Jim Kirk spent a lot of his time reviewing the political and social situations of the space station and its neighbors.

But unfortunately, the trek couldn’t go without incident. Discipline was another part of the Captain’s job.

Jim looked disapprovingly upon the young enlisted woman Security brought before him. She was angry, rebellious, and probably shouldn’t have signed up for this job. She reminded him of himself, before the Academy, before his resolutions. But he doubted she had any thoughts of bettering herself yet. She was only a few years younger than him.

“Charges of stealing from your cabin mates. A gold necklace, really? Can’t exactly wear that in engineering. Anything to say?” The Captain asked.

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“O-kay. Not here, and not now, and probably not ever.  This is the third incident on your record. Three strikes and you’re out. Unless you have some way of explaining yourself, then you’ll be dishonorably discharged.” He waited a moment to see if she would have anything to say.

“I wanted it. She owed me!”

Jim watched in disappointment as Security escorted her away. Spock comforted him, in his own way. “Well handled Captain.”

“I know,” the Captain snapped irritably. And then he put the issue behind him.

But later that night, when he was sweaty and sore and glowing in bliss, he thought of that enlisted girl, and told Bones about the incident. “Do you think I did the right thing? I could have just given her a slap on the wrist, and let it go.”

Bones rolled closer, his naked front to Jim’s side, and spoke directly into Jim’s ear, “Do you think it would have changed her?”

Jim swallowed, thought back to the long angry ten years of his life, from twelve to twenty two, and his eternal frustration that permeated those years. “No. She wasn’t ready to quit fighting yet. But who’s going to be there to give her a chance when she is ready?” Jim thought of Pike.

Bones hummed in neutral response, not a yes, just an acknowledgement to the problem. The vibration sent shivers through Jim’s skull. “It doesn’t have to be you, darlin’.”

Jim sighed. “There aren’t many people out there willing to give second chances.”

“It doesn’t have to be you, Jim. And besides, she got caught. That’s her fault, not yours.”

The Enterprise made good time, and soon it was approaching dock at Deep Space Three.

Chekov announced arrival plans to the crew, his voice unruffled even though he had had a bad week. Silent but in a good mood, Sulu aligned and set up dock. Uhura was in contact with the control staff for the space station, busy relaying messages and directing docking data to both the control tower and the pilot.

Behind Kirk, leaning against the back of the captain's chair, McCoy shifted restlessly.

"You’re about to get your chance to set your feet on firm ground again," Jim commented absently.

"Firm? Heh, that place is just a spinning contraption ready to tear apart under its own force.” McCoy snarked.

“So are planets,” Jim retorted.

“Have you seen the sickness rate on the space stations? They are a petri dish of inter-species disease, an enclosed pandemic just waiting to happen, far away from any help." McCoy was full of agitated energy, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Spock glanced at him in quiet irritation.

“And here I thought you were looking forward to this.” Kirk wasn't perturbed. "Enjoy your pot of disease. I've got a dead body to deliver."

McCoy scowled. "Don't remind me."

"Why don't you go back to Medical and see if anyone's gotten sick yet?"

McCoy huffed. "Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"You're agitating the green one." Jim pointed a thumb at Spock.

"Let him be agitated for all I care! I can stand where I damn well want to!"

"Bones," Jim rolled his neck back, to look upside down at McCoy standing behind him. "Go. Shoo. Pester someone else." He made the little shooing gesture.

Jim looked cute and playful, so McCoy smiled and pecked him on the lips, in an upside-down kiss. "Hush you," the doctor groused. Then he leaned in and lightly kissed Jim's neck. Jim laughed softly. Spock raised an eyebrow at the inappropriateness of the gesture, but McCoy raised a mocking eyebrow in return. Jim gave Bones a smile, and then turned back to his notes on the space station, as the doctor left the Bridge.

McCoy went to Medical, which was blessedly calm.

One of the supplies they were delivering was the vaccine to Brogan fasciitis. There had been three cases of it on neighboring worlds, and the station had been labeled at high risk. In the bay was a case of the vaccine for delivery, and Leonard had stocked his own bag with several doses. He double checked his medkit, and confirmed it was ready with the necessities and more.

He made sure that everything was right with the supply cabinets, and double checked the computer inventory. Everything was as he wanted it to be. Lastly, he checked the status on that fool Kevin Riley, who was recovering well, but…

“Chapel, is he regenerating blood appropriately?”

“No, still too slowly. I’ve adjusted the growth enhancers, but I’m reluctant to raise it higher than .6%.”

“I understand. I doubt his body would have the energy to handle more. Just keep an eye on him, alright?”

“I already am, doctor.”

“Of course, of course you are." He smiled. "Thank you Christine. Oh, and remember: I plan to stay tonight on the space station.”

“Alone?” She taunted.

McCoy chortled, “O-hoho, is that any business of yours?”

“I was just wondering if you were staying in the presidential suite or the dog house.”

“Ha! If you’re nosing around for dog shit, then I’ll make sure you find it, missy.”

Chapel laughed and swatted him on the arm. “Go enjoy yourself. But don’t get into any more trouble.”

“That’s Jim’s job.”

“And try not to work too hard on your leave. But do get back on time so that I can have my own vacation in a few days.”

“I will, my dear.”

With an amused smile to Chapel, he left the Medbay and went to his own quarters. Most of his time was spent in Jim’s rooms, but despite Jim’s willingness Bones had never fully moved in. He needed space for himself.

He showered with scentless soap, scrubbed his skin till it was pink and fresh, with little possibility of skin flakes that could be left behind. Then he dressed in tight, lightly armored black clothes. Over the blacks, he wore his regular blue uniform and slacks. He had a fresh pair of boots, as generic and common as a sturdy pair could be. He would put them on right before he disappeared off the grid, and discard them when he was done. For now he wore his regular shoes.

He would bring no weapons, because they could be scanned for. He longed to hold an assault weapon again. But no. For this mission, he would use his hands.

He had a hidden padd, electronically guarded from the Enterprise network. It was the one he received mission messages on. Most of the time it was left completely off, without a volt of electricity in it that could catch the eyes of a scanner. He regularly wiped the memory off it.

Currently, it had complete maps of Deep Space Three, showing the hallways, the sewer pipes, the Jeffery tubes, ventilation, and electronic systems. He had memorized them, but didn’t hesitate to review them one more time. Finally, with just twenty minutes until the senior crew boarded DS3, he erased the maps, depowered the padd, and hid it again.

Sulu leaned back in his chair as docking was completed, all connections made. Science was busy gradually stabilizing the Enterprise’s gravity with the station’s, and he kept a casual eye on the all mechanical and system links. After docking, most of his job was passive.

He turned to the kid sitting next to him. “Hey Chekov, you want to go grab something to eat on the space station?”

Chekov shook his head. “Ah, no. Money is little right now. Besides, I vill be spending most of my time vith my family.”

That surprised Sulu. “You have family on the space station?”

“Oh yes yes! My mother, her sister lives here! And she has zree children: Svetlana, her oldest. Zen Osip, he is twelve. And last, маленький Pasha. He was named after me.”

“Heh, I had no idea. Are you all close?”

“I played with zem when zey still lived on Earth. Zen I went to school, and my aunt moved away. Zis will be the first time I see zem in many years. Is exciting.” Chekov did look excited, but there was a hint of the weariness that had been weighing at him for weeks now.

“Well, I got three days approved on the space station. You can have two of my days, if you’d like.” Sulu tried to cheer him up.

Pavel was startled but thrilled. “Yes, I vould! Zat would give me five days. Zank you! You are at all times so charitable to others. I wish I be more like you.”

Sulu shrugged the compliments off. “You need to spend as much time with your family while you have the chance, right? Don’t worry about it.”

Chekov smiled at him, and a little of the weight seemed lifted from his skinny shoulders.

Shortly, the Enterprise crew was approved for boarding. The first ones to embark would be Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. Lesser officers and enlisted crew would follow later.

Jim stood in between Spock and McCoy on the transporter, like he was separating two kids. That didn’t stop McCoy from raising an antagonist eyebrow at Spock.

Spock ignored him, and Jim jabbed an elbow in McCoy’s side, but Bones could see the hint of a smile on Jim’s lips. He wanted to grab Jim by the wrist, or run a hand down the man's back, but he ignored the playful urge, firmly behaving himself.

They beamed onto the space station. For a station so new, it was disappointingly dirty. The welcome area had been swept and cleaned, but that didn’t hide the grime in the corners.

The greeting crew were mostly Andorians, and before pleasantries could begin, protocol called for a security check. Even commanding officers did not get around regulation or security. A small group from another ship was before them, and were being examined in a rush, trying to make ready for the commanding officers of the Enterprise. Spock, Kirk, and McCoy stood and waited politely- until an alarm sounded and one of the men in front of them broke away.

Security pulled a curved bone knife off of the man, but not before the human could scramble away. Bones saw the man dart to the left, in a direct course towards him, as Jim yelled, "Bones, grab him!" Instinct almost had him reach out and grapple the man, but in a split moment, aware of the eyes on him, his still. With intentionally wide eyes, he let the the runaway collide into him.

"What?! Gah!" McCoy fell against the wall and slid down, holding his arms over his head. The attacker unceremoniously kicked the doctor out of the way and ran. Jim jumped for the man, and wrestled him to the ground. Spock finished the fight, grabbing the man, and pinching his neck. The man slumped over immediately.

Security pulled a second long, curved knife off the man as they lead him away. Jim reached out an arm to pull Bones up, sarcastically saying. "Thank you so much for helping with that."

"Well, I didn't expect to need a goddamn phaser on a goddamn space station!" McCoy spat back.

"You shouldn't need one. I thank you for helping, Captain Kirk," a tall Andorian stepped up and greeted them. "It isn't often that we have trouble on Deep Space Three, but sometimes, someone will try to smuggle a weapon onboard with them."

Jim offered his hand to shake in human style, and the Andorian took it, shaking McCoy's hand too, and bowing in greeting to Spock. "I am Captain Shralev tha'Jarka, the governor of Deep Space Three. I am pleased to meet you all."

There were many pleasantries and apologizes involved, and before long, cargo was loaded from the Enterprise to DS3, the deceased included. Shralev stared dispassionately at the body of Ambassador Hetherman. "It is a very sad and unfortunate shame that it should end like this."

McCoy watched the Andorian out of the corner of his eye. Shralev’s face was blank to him, but Bones had his suspicions.

"Did you know the Ambassador well, Captain Shralev?" Spock asked.

"We had spoken before." The Andorian said nothing more.

"I will leave the ambassador to you, Shralev." Jim stepped in before the silence could become awkward. "We'll be traveling to sector 6921 after our stay here, so can I trust you to make sure this man is transported back to Earth safely?"

“Would a space release not be more sensible?”

Jim shrugged. “Starfleet and the Ambassador’s family would like to see the body returned to Earth.”

Shralev sniffed. “I thought humans were more practical than that.”

It was Spock who argued, raising an incriminating eyebrow. “I thought an Andorian would understand the sensitivities surrounding this sort of this.”

“I thought a Vulcan would consider the movement of an already dead body pointless and wasteful.” Shralev’s expression was less than nice.

Spock stiffly answered, “You would be wrong.”

“Shralev,” Jim stepped in, “I have no personal interest in the ambassador’s body. If you think it would be more practical to send it out into space, then talk to Starfleet Headquarters about it.” Jim turned just a bit and caught the eyes of Spock and Bones. “I think the crew can handle unloading the rest of the cargo. Why don’t we all go explore the space station?”

"Please do," Shralev added, even though Jim wasn’t looking at him anymore.

Jim smiled nicely at the governor, then ushered Spock away from the Andorian. The Vulcan shook off Jim’s attempt to lead him by the arm.

McCoy followed behind silently. He had said nothing during the exchange, but he had a hunch on who placed the bounty on Ambassador Hetherman's head. Shralev couldn’t know what evidence was on the body, but he still wanted to keep it from being reexamined. McCoy was happy with that.

He didn’t notice that Jim was watching him, with just a bit of confusion.

**Part 2**

**[Back to Master Post](http://pestshingowrite.livejournal.com/7944.html) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell this chapter never got the love it deserved.

"Bones, what was that back there?" Jim asked once they were on their own.

"Back, what? You mean how snooty the Andorian was being?" McCoy asked in confusion.

"When we gave the body to Captain Shralev, you were giving him the funny eye."

"I don't have no 'funny eye' Jim, so don't give me that malarkey," Leonard harrumphed. They were walking down the market area on DS3, where all the shops and restaurants were. It was dirty here too, with floors covered in grime and trash. There were so many people here that contagions would spread rapidly. It was so congested here that a person could slip into the crowd and disappear.

"Stop, Bones, stop." Jim came to a halt, and Leonard stopped with him. "I saw the way you looked at him. What were you thinking?"

McCoy shrugged. "I just thought he didn't seem to like the Ambassador at all."

Jim nodded and looked down, considering. "Yeah. Yeah, I thought so too. Do you think there might have been foul play?" He asked frankly.

"What? No! Jim, I saw that man die myself. I am damn sure I know what killed him."

"And it was natural?"

"It was natural, Jim," he lied.

Jim let the thought go, reluctantly, and changed the subject. "By the way, how did that white flower stuff work out?"

"You mean the flower from Irgon?" It was something they had picked up during a scientific mission on an uninhabited planet. McCoy had seen the possibilities for it as soon as he had run a scan. "Piss poor. I figured I'd be able to use the molecular binding components in it to support some of the less stable molecules in viral annihilators. But the connections are still too damn delicate. Every method I’ve tried to bind them ends up collapsing. That was another dead end."

Jim patted him on the back, and used the gesture to pull Bones in for a sideways hug. "Too bad Bones. You'll find a way eventually. Hey, is that Chinese food?" He waved to a restaurant.

Bones wrapped his arm around Jim’s waist too, and they walked together hip to hip. "I think it is, Jim. Have we struck gold?"

"We certainly have. Come on, we're not gonna get the chance to eat at a Chinese restaurant again until we hit San Francisco."

\---

"Aunt Uljyana, I am here! Aunt Uljyana?" Pavel knocked on the door to his aunt's place. He could hear movement inside, and the wailing of one of the boys. The worry that had consumed him for the last several weeks, grew. "Aunt Uljyana? Can you come to the door? Пожалуйста препятствуйте мне внутри."

Slowly the door slid open, and a young boy peeked out, tear stains running down his cheeks. Pavel knelt down and reached out to the boy. "Osip, what’s wrong? Do you remember me? It's Pasha! Come here. Pasha здесь теперь. Что неправильно?" With the door open, Pavel could hear that it wasn’t one of the boys crying, but a woman.

Osip bit his lip, and said nothing. It had been about five years since they last saw each other in person, and Pavel hoped the boy recognized him. "Не потревожьтесь. Pasha здесь теперь. Pasha сделает все лучше." He pulled the boy into a hug, and Osip smiled just a little.

He kissed the boy on the head, squeezed just a bit tighter, then let go. "Osip, Где ваша мать? Take me to your mother."

The boy lead him inside by the hand. There was a table overturned, a chair too, a broken lamp on the floor. The crying was coming from a small bedroom. It had two beds for children, and a crib. Inside, his aunt was crying on the floor.

Pavel's throat went dry. "Что случалось?"

\---

The Chinese food was a bad idea, because it gave Bones a terrible, terrible upset stomach. The restaurant’s kitchen probably wasn’t properly cleaned, and was almost certainly full of grime and grease and cooks who didn’t wash their hands.

McCoy went to bed early, in his own private guest room, closing the door on Jim’s disappointed face.

He locked the door securely.

Leonard McCoy undressed, taking off his shirt and boots, leaving on just the skin tight black clothes. He pulled on thick, but malleable gloves and brought out the fresh new boots, and slipped them on. Tied them tightly.

From his medical pack he pulled out two things: one a vial of fluid, the other a compact but powerful computer. It was just a little bigger than a tricorder, and it had hook ups for just about every possible connection in known space. Some were well tested, others were more iffy. But he wasn’t going to hack into a Klingon spaceship, he was working on a Federation built system, and this would computer would allow him to hack into all doors and entryways with complete confidence.

His room didn’t have a scenic view of the market place, like Jim’s did. This room didn’t have any view or windows at all. It was in the central area, because he had complained that he didn’t want a hull room. The windows to space were popular with most, but not with Dr. Leonard McCoy. He didn’t want to be the first person exposed to pressure loss if the hull was damaged.

And with a bit of luck, this room was right next to a (hopefully) little used Jeffrey tube. He started to open the panel on the far wall.

The man who slipped into the Jeffery’s tube wasn’t Leonard McCoy. It was a dark, silent shadow. It was the Reaper.

\---

Kheje Blumkrest owned the Chinese restaurant. McCoy had seen him sitting in the corner, with several bodyguards, eating slowly and watching the crowd. He was a well-dressed man, who cared for appearances, and smiled effortlessly. The staff had been professional when dealing with him, but walked nervously.

Kheje worked within the traditional human schedule, and Reaper expected the man might go home soon. However Kheje ordered one more drink.  
The vial and let a few drops in the man’s drink, while the bartender wasn’t looking.

He'd gotten used to working in subterfuge and assassination from a distance. It could be exciting in its own way. As a beginner, centuries ago, he had learned how most of battle was waiting, and experience proved how true that was. Though he did miss the true adrenaline rush of melee, where one's life relied on speed, reactions and luck.

He hid as a waitress unknowingly brought out the poisoned drink. Kheje took it and lifted the glass to drink. Then he hesitated.

Reaper held his breath. The man couldn’t possibly know.

Kheje smiled at the waitress. “You are new here, aren’t you my dear?”

The waitress nodded, and uneasily flattened her skirt.

“Then you haven’t sampled the food yet, have you?”

The young waitress shook her head.

“I thought not. Please, come try my drink.”

Reaper froze. Then watched, horrified, as the young woman took a sip.

The compound worked quickly. After swallowing, she began to cough, holding her throat. She did not cough up blood, because the metal eater absorbed the blood. She gasped as her esophagus swelled, and fell to her knees, held a hand over her chest. When iron in the human system was absorbed by the metal eater it created a chemical waste of mostly air and bubbles. Her stomach swelled with the foam, then the froth was forced up and out her swollen esophagus, out her mouth and nose. Unseen, it also filled her veins and arteries, making them bursts. She collapsed, dead, as the other waiters and the cook screamed and tried to help.

Kheje Blumkrest looked down at her unmoving body dispassionately. The spilled drink began to foam as it ate the metallic floor. Kheje sipped his water instead. "Kill the bartender and the cook," the villain ordered his bodyguards. “The rest of you, remember to always taste my food before it’s served."

Reaper ground his teeth in anger.

\---

“Captain, we have a problem.”

Both Kirk and Shralev looked up, somewhat alarmed at the urgent tone of the lieutenant’s voice. Before them, the viewing platform showed hundreds of Federation citizens, some winding down to call it a day, others just beginning. The two captains had been cordially conversing in the governor’s observation room. Jim had joined the governor after dropping Bones off, unwilling to waste time spending it by himself. The two of them did have political matters to discuss, and the Andorian would not sleep for many hours more. Personally, Jim found the Andorian almost as stiff as a Vulcan. There was usually some spark in the antenna-heads, but Shralev hid behind an extremely formal facade.

“What is wrong?” The governor asked the lieutenant.

“Sir, Medical reports that a human just arrived in sickbay. And he looks like he may have Brogun. He arrived on the station with one of the small ships earlier today. We’re moving everyone else from his ship to quarantine, but they’ve already exposed the rest of the station by this point.”

Captain Shralev cursed. “Fcerma! We scan everyone when they board, but there’s no way to detect Brogun until they’re sick.”

“Guess we got the vaccine here just in time.” Kirk leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms.

Shralev only relaxed a little. “Yes, I am thankful for that. Have the doctors begin administering the vaccine to everyone immediately. Hopefully we can prevent any deaths that way.”

The lieutenant looked extremely uncomfortable. “Captain, actually, the real problem is, well, I came to tell you…you see, it’s the cargo. Some of it has gone missing.”

Captain Shralev was dismayed. “What?”

“The whole palette of Brogan vaccine is missing, sir.”

“How?” Kirk demanded. “We watched it unloaded just earlier today!”

“We don’t know! No one saw it happen; the security feeds go blank for an hour, and the security guards didn’t see it happen. We’re looking into it, sirs!” The lieutenant pleaded.

“Find it,” Captain Shralev ordered. “It must be somewhere on the station, so find it! Creposfc neghr,” he cursed. “All we can do is quarantine anyone exposed to it.”

Kirk thought fast. “We may still have some on the Enterprise, leftover from inoculating my crew. Not much, maybe a few doses.”

“But Medical might be able to cultivate duplicates.” Shralev realized.

Jim jumped into action. “I’ll be right back.”

\---

Jim contacted the Enterprise, and asked the Medbay to send any and all Brogun fasciitis vaccines to DS3. Then he went to McCoy’s guestroom, and banged on the door.

“Bones! Bones, I need your medical bag! Bones? Wake up!”

When the doctor didn’t answer, Jim overrode the lock.

“Bones, you’re sleeping like the dead, wake up!”

Strangely, there was no reply. Not a holler or even a sleepy grunt.

“Bones?”

Jim turned on the lights, and found the bed unused, with clothes on the floor. The bathroom was empty. But a panel had been pulled off the wall, revealing a Jeffery’s tube.

Jim stared at it, perplexed.

He leaned into the Jeffery’s tube. “Bones?” It echoed down and around.

He pulled himself back out, and glanced around the room again. Maybe the grumpy doctor had just gone out for a walk, or maybe to get a drink. But Bones’ well worn shoes were on the floor, abandoned. And a wall panel had been removed. If this was Sulu, he would have known exactly where to look.

But Bones? In a Jeffery's tube?

Had Bones abandoned Jim at the end of the evening, just to go tear a hole out of the wall and climb down a twenty meter long passageway, then disappear into the hidden passageways of the space station without his shoes?

It was so unlikely that Jim didn’t know how to wrap his mind around idea. In fact, it was downright suspicious. Maybe someone had drilled from the Jeffery's tube into Bones room and kidnapped the doctor.

Jim crawled again into the tube, checking the rim of the hole, and found it completely clean, but there were a few screwdriver scratches from within the room. It had been opened from inside. He climbed his way down the ladder. Below, it split off in four ways, like a major intersection. “Bones!” He called to the left, then the right. There was no response, not from McCoy, not from anyone. “Bones!” He yelled again. Frustrated and confused, he crawled back up.

He couldn’t tell where on earth Bones was, and he needed to call security, and damn it, he still needed to get that vaccine as soon as possible.

"Security, this is Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise. There's been a breach in the Jeffery's tube next to guestroom 105, and Dr. Leonard McCoy is missing. Please come investigate." Security confirmed, and would arrive shortly.

Still worried and confused, Jim had to find the vaccine. He glanced left and right, pushed clothes and belongings around until he found the medical bag. He tore into it, and found so many vials and cartridges that he could have started a chemistry set. Half of them weren’t even labeled.

“Damn it Bones!” He was so frustrated that he wanted to throw the damn medical kit against the wall. Instead he punted Bones shoes, then stopped himself from stupidly moving anything else in the compromised room. He didn’t know if he should be angry or worried. He ran his hands through his hair, took a deep breath, grabbed the medical bag, and left.

\---

Reaper’s assassination attempt had gone horribly, and he considered his options. He could abandon the mission now, or he could attack again. Kheje would be on guard now. But Reaper didn’t have the time to wait it out for a few weeks or a few months. And he wanted this guy dead. He hated him already.

He thought hard about his next move, considered trying again after a few days. Would that give Kheje too much time to prepare? Kheje would be on alarm for the rest of the night, into the next 24 hours at least, but that could be an advantage. A paranoid target was easier to fight than a prepared target.

He snuck into the man’s quarters, barely avoiding the booby traps in the vents. Damn paranoid bastard. Reaper waited quietly for the Kheje and the man’s two bodyguards to settle down for the night.

He would attack when Kheje was asleep. Strangle the man in the middle of a dead sleep, then sneak away again. If he managed to do it quietly, then it would not be discovered until the next day.

But that’s not how things went.

“Boss, I left the girl in your bedroom.” One of the stooges nodded towards Kheje’s personal quarter, with its closed door.

“Ah, thank you.” Kheje smiled and nodded, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “She’s not too young, is she?”

“She sure is. If she’s a little too flat, you can let us have her.” The taller bodyguard suggested, glancing at his partner and the two of them smirked.

“But she’s got lots of fight!” The other added.

That interested Kheje. “A strong one, hmm? Well, if there’s a challenge, then I might enjoy this. I’m going to retire. Good night.”

The lackeys nodded, and settled themselves in the sitting area. They probably would not be sleeping at all.

Kheje disappeared. Just around the corner, Reaper pressed his back flat to the wall. The most silent way to sneak into Kheje Blumkrest’s quarters was on foot. There would be no traps he might set off, and if worst came to worst and the body guards did discover him, then he would strangle them both.

Right now, he was on the edge of being discovered. If just one person walked around the hall, and turned the corner, they would find him. His heart was pounding in his ears, beating hard, because he was in such a precarious position.

He waited with quiet, deep breaths as the bodyguards settled down. It would take a few hours before they would be unguarded and would not be paying attention. Then he could sneak into the room.

As he waited, he could hear a voice rise from bedroom, a girl’s voice. He could hear her muted yells.

If he was sensible, he would stay in hiding and wait for an hour or so. But as her yells became more distressed, Reaper made a quick, split moment decision.

Reaper snuck a glance at the bodyguards, who didn’t seem surprised or alarmed at the yelling. In fact they turned up the holovid’s volume just a bit. When he was as certain as he could be that they weren’t paying attention, Reaper snuck from the kitchen to the hall, heart in his throat as he had to cross the short open space where the guards might see him.

They noticed nothing. They weren’t even looking his direction. Relieved, Reaper allowed himself a satisfied smirk.

He snuck up to the bedroom door, and pressed his ear. He could hear the girl’s angry words. “Я хочу выйти! Я не хочу быть здесь, позвольте мне идти!”

The silky way she pronounced her consonants was very familiar, and she sounded younger and younger by the second. Reaper pulled out his handheld computer, and hooked it up to the entrance panel. He commanded the door to open. This way he was able to control the door without the system registering that he had ever used it.

Kheje was on the bed; his back was to the door. The girl was underneath his body, struggling. Kheje murmured even and soothing words, but the girl grew only more alarmed. Her clothing was pulled up, revealing her coltish legs, and as she shrieked, Reaper jumped, tackling the man, pulling him off of her. She screamed and ran, her torn shirt barely covering her.

"No!" Kheje shouted after her, angry, but immediately turned his attention to the attacker and snapped a flat palm into Reaper's jaw. It struck with such force that Reaper’s face swung to the side, spit flying from his mouth. His eyes widened, his breath gone. He was stunned.

So was the Kheje Blumkrest. "You...that should have broken your jaw."

Reaper spit blood from a momentarily loosened tooth and glared at the arrogant bastard. "And that shouldn't have hurt."

The two circled around each other, taking account of one another's stance. Kheje was thickly muscled, like Sarge had been, with a well-balanced stance. Reaper knew it would be a challenge to make him loose his footing. This man worked out. Fought. And was unnaturally strong.

Reaper hadn’t been expecting this when he came here.

Blumkrest spoke first. "I don’t appreciate you interrupting me, but meeting you is an almost welcome surprise. Were you the one who tried to poison me earlier? A strange poison, I’ve never seen a person die like that before.”

“You didn’t need to kill the others.”

Kheje smiled unkindly. “But that is their place. Surely you do not regret such petty deaths.”

Reaper just gritted his teeth, and kept circling.

Kheje eyed his opponent, and leaned deeply forward into his stance, covering his core. But it was primarily an offensive stance, with grappling hands ready and flexing. “I haven't seen your stance in many, many years.” Kheje commented. “Not since those Vulcan bastards came. Fighting styles have changed a lot, but you've got the foot work of long ago. Jiu jitsu? The way the military taught it. We can learn the new styles, but we can't change the foundations of our style away, can we?”

Still Reaper said nothing, and they circled around each other, each watching and assessing an unexpectedly strong opponent.

Kheje stopped circling, and spread his feet wide apart. “I've learned and fought against many styles over the years. But I think this will be very satisfying. Let's fight like men used to, when Earth was in its glory day."

"And when was that?" Reaper asked, sinking deeper into the balls of his feet.

The target grinned. "You tell me." Then Kheje lunged forward, hitting his shoulder into Reaper’s torso, grabbing at Reaper’s knees and ankles to make him lose his footing.

Reaper had been ready, had grounded himself, and steeled his balance. But he fell, to an opponent unnaturally strong. He grabbed the man by the neck as he fell to his back. The man blocked with a forearm, just as Reaper hooked his ankle around the target's, to reverse the hold. It worked, and Kheje lost his leverage, and the man’s next blow had less force behind it.

It still made Reaper’s head spin.

He was ready for it though, adrenaline pumping through him like it hadn't in decades, and he cut against the target's forehead once, twice, bam bam, before the man got a block off and they were now standing still, locked in a, pushing against each other, each unable to overpower the other.

Kheje panted, "It's been...so long since...I've had a fight like this."

Reaper grunted. "Really?" He pressed harder, gained a little ground, only to slowly lose it as the target pressed back, both of them straining.

Then a shot rang out, getting Reaper in the thigh. He cried out, and recoiled for just a moment, enough for Blumkrest to push forward, get Reaper on his stomach and pull his arms behind his back. Reaper was caught in a hold he couldn’t break out of.

"Ha! Haha!" The target laughed in victory, breathless. "Come, tie him up! Hurry, he's stronger than either of you two goons."

The bodyguards had been struggling to get the door unlocked since it closed behind Reaper. They ran over and tightly tied Reaper's hands. Kheje stepped away once Reaper was completely restrained, glowing from the victory.

“Amazing. Ah, I feel exhilarated!” Kheje panted, smiling.

"What should we do with him Boss?" The taller bodyguard asked.

"I have no idea," Blumkrest admitted. "But I want to keep him. What will it take to keep him down?" He leaned down over Reaper. "Do you respond to drugs? I could tranquilize you and keep you in a daze. That would make you manageable. Or I could fill you up with testosterone and steroids, until you vibrate with rage, ready to tear apart whatever piece of live meat I throw for you. Could I gamble on you in Klingon pit fits? I could keep you as a caged dog, my own little prized champion. And I'm sure anyone will pay up if I throw them in your cage for just a few minutes. Look at you, already vibrating with rage, very good!" Kheje was absolutely pleased as he stood over Reaper, watching the soldier vibrate with resentment.

One of the bodyguards took a step back. "Boss, we should put him down. This feels dangerous."

"Yes, you're probably right. But can't you just imagine the appeal of keeping a caged animal? Strong and powerful and deadly. And I’m the one with power over it.” Again, Kheje laughed in triumph. “Drag him to the holding cells, and see that his wound is attended to. And where did that girl get to? Find her."

Both goons nodded, and grabbed Reaper by the upper arms, dragging him away. The blood from his thigh smeared the carpet. Kheje reached down a finger to swipe at the stain curiously.

The bodyguards dragged Reaper through the carpeted halls, then through a heavy metal door, and down grate steps. He struggled in their grip, twisting his torso, shaking his shoulders, trying to throw them off, but always favoring his left leg. For now they held firm, but he would wait for a moment to catch them unawares. Already the pain had receded in his leg, and the wound had healed. It would leave no scar, nothing for Jim to notice.

But before he could worry about what Jim would think, he needed to get out of here. The biggest problem was Kheje Blumkrest. The man wasn't human. Not a regular human. And that worried John.

The cells had iron bars, another idea from the past. But there were also force field controls for every cell, and as soon as that field went up with Reaper in the cell, he wouldn't be able to get out. He let his body fall limp as the goons dragged him passed occupied sells, a few pairs of sullen eyes attached to beaten bodies watching him from the behind bars. All were citizens from the colony, most likely.

If the crazy man had his way, Reaper would be the howling lunatic in this group of silent, flinching prisoners, the one who screamed and banged himself against the walls of his cage, spraying his own blood within it, probably left to starve until he was willing to eat raw or live meat.

Leonard McCoy would never let himself succumb to that. He would rather starve slowly, with dignity, than become a raging lunatic. But there were drugs that could do that type of thing to a person. In large enough quantities, could they affect him? Was he really all that far from being a monster as he was?

The goons stopped in front of an empty cell, and the tall one reached for the control panel. The iron door slid open, and before they could throw him in, Reaper jumped, fully using both of his uninjured legs. They didn’t see it coming. Reaper pulled the legs out from underneath the tall one, who shouted as he fell, then jabbed the other in the liver with his elbow, twice. The short one keeled over and Reaper slammed down as hard as he could on the man's jaw, felt the snap, heard the scream, just as the tall one recovered, and tried to grab him. Reaper head butted the tall one so that he fell again, then rolled on top of him. The guard pulled a knife and in desperation, stabbed Reaper in the ribs, holding onto the hilt as they struggled, so that the knife twisted in Reaper’s gut. McCoy didn't let the pain or the wound distract him from biting at the man’s ears.

It was ripped off pathetically easily, and the man screamed and screamed, holding at the bleeding stump on the side of his head.

Reaper rolled off the wriggling man, and awkwardly grabbed the hilt of the knife, and wrenched it from his side with a pained grunt. He used the knife to cut the bindings that still held his hands together.

To the side, the short man with the broken jaw still wriggled around, curled up in the fetal position.

The tall one was standing up though, eyes wild with pain and rage, blood streaming from the side of his head.

“Don’t get into a fight you can’t win,” Reaper told him.

From his belt, the man pulled a new knife and sliced it through the air. Reaper blocked with his forearm, then punched the man in the gut. He slid down to the floor and didn’t get up again.

The sullen eyes of everyone in the room were now wide, and they shrunk away from him in fear as he passed. There was only one door out of the corridor of cells, and when Reaper reached it, he hesitated. He looked behind him, at all the prisoners.

There was a master control panel by the exit. He pulled out his override computer that he had bought for hundreds of thousands of credits for use in breaking into highly secured areas. The commands it accepted were limited and simple, and he hooked it up to the control panel, and commanded OPEN, hoping the systems would sync.

They did. All doors opened, all force fields disengaged.

Hesitantly, a few hands reached out, disbelieving.

Reaper didn't wait. He left the door open on his way out.

\---

A teenaged girl ran out of the halls, into the main area of the space station, sobbing. She was barely clothed.

Lieutenant Hanity looked up from the pearls she had been feeling, listening closely to zoom in on the distress. Next to her, Giotto from Enterprise Security straightened his shoulders. “What’s going on?” He muttered. Hanity’s penetrating, if nearly blind, gaze stared long and hard in the girl’s direction. She was normally awake at this time. Giotto was gradually spending more time in conjunction with her hours.

Space station security officers grabbed the nearly naked girl, and caroled her to the side unkindly. Citizens glanced in curiosity and confusion, but quickly obeyed when security ordered them away. The girl reached out towards the people around her, and just screamed louder.

While everyone around them continued on their way, Giotto strode right over to the ruckus. “Hey! What’s going on here?”

The girl, seeing someone help for the first time, reached out towards him, saying words he didn’t know, but he could tell that she was begging for help.

“Помогите мне! Помогите мне! Я хочу мою маму!”

“Back off,” one of the space station security officers warned. “We’re taking this girl into custody.”

Giotto had dealt with people who resisted help before, but this felt wrong. The girl was terrified of the DS3 security, not of anyone else.

Giotto folded his arms. “She looks hurt. Are you taking her to get help?”

“After we sedate her.” One security officer assured, and the girl kicked and screamed in his arms.

“Maybe I can help you out with that.” Giotto offered. He started to reach a hand out to her, and the girl eagerly reached back, seemingly welcoming anyone who wasn’t security, but the guards pulled her arms behind her back, and pulled her out of Giotto’ reach.

“Back off buddy!” One security officer threatened, getting into Giotto’ face. “Or we’ll throw you in jail too!”

“Why are you arresting her?” Giotto demanded.

“She’s exposing herself!”

“She looks like she was attacked! I want you to take her to the medbay right now-”

“That’s it, I’m arresting you-”

“I’m Lieutenant Commander Giotto of the Enterprise,” he stepped forward, until they were almost nose to nose, and stared down into the man’s eyes. “Now do you want to arrest me for attempting to help a civilian?”

The space station security officer gapped. “You- you don’t have jurisdiction here-”

“Who do you answer to? A corporal? I answer to Captain James Kirk. We can pull our bosses into this, and let them have a pissing match if you’d like. Somehow, I bet you don’t want Captain Shralev hearing about this.” Giotto stepped forward again, just a minute step, so that he was chest to chest with the protesting security officer. He was taller than any of them.

The girl’s head had snapped up when she heard the names “Enterprise” and “James Kirk”, looking hopeful. The station security glanced nervously between each other, before releasing the girl. She grabbed Giotto by the arm and held on tight, suspiciously watching the security officers, muttering angry, lilting words. “Умрите, Вы грязные ублюдки!” Then she looked up Giotto hopefully and said, “Вы можете взять меня к Enterprise? Pavel Andrievich, Я хочу видеть Pavel Andrievich Chekov!”

“Uh, yeah, we’ll get him.” Giotto tried to reassure.

But the station security wasn’t done yet, and, glancing nervously between the girl, and Giotto, on of them tried to make amends. “Look sir, maybe you don’t have to mention this to anyone? We can pay you what we’re getting paid.”

Giotto glowered, and that’s when the security officers realized how much trouble they were really in.

\---

"Svetlana!" Chekov called out, and the half-naked girl ran straight into his arms.

He had called the Enterprise for help when he discovered his family had been attacked. Giotto and Hanity had brought the girl to the Enterprise, and he had rushed up to see her as soon as he heard.

Svetlana cried into Chekov’s chest, and he rocked her in his arms, whispering to her in Russian.

" Ты безопасны. Ты безопасны. Я защищу мебе. Ты безопасны."

Spock, who had been pulled into the matter late at night without complaint, tilted his head and watched the two. “This is the girl you mentioned was missing?”

Chekov barely looked up. “Yes. She is my cousin.”

“I had heard you had family on Deep Space Three. I do not mean to intrude, but does she need medical assistance?”

“Eh? Ah, just a moment. Ты повреждаете? Ты должны видеть доктора? Нет? Скажите мне немедленно, если Ты нуждаетесь в докторе.” Chekov pulled her hair back as he spoke to her, examining all of her.

The girl shook her head emphatically, and spoke rapidly back. “Я безопасен, я безопасен. Человек, он приехал, он спас меня. Вы защитили меня Pavel, он защитили меня.”

(To get the point across, I want her to say, “Я безопасен, я безопасен. A man came and saved me! You sent him, didn’t you Pasha? Did you send the man to save me?”)

“Shh, shhh,” Chekov hushed her, glancing between Spock and the girl. “She says she is not hurt, but can we still take her to a doctor?”

Spock nodded. “That would be sensible. I think we should keep her on the Enterprise for the time period, given the suspicious circumstances that the Chief Giotto has spoken of. Would you help us report what happened?”

“Yes, yes, absolutely! мы выходим, Svetlana.” And he guided her to the medbay.

\---

An hour later, she had been checked out and found unharmed. Chekov watched as his cousin slept on the Enterprise’s medical bed, slouched in a chair.

“Hey there, I heard what happened,” Uhura quietly walked up behind them, respectfully intruding. She was dressed in little more than sweats, and her hair was brushed but unstyled. Spock had unintentionally woke her up when he was pulled away to take care matters, first by a comm from Jim, then by a security matter that came in as he tried to crawl back into bed. Uhura had gotten up when she found out it involved Chekov. “Is she okay?”

Chekov smiled sadly. “She is unhurt. I am very thankful.”

Uhura nodded in understanding, and bit her lip. “You’ve been worried about her for awhile, haven’t you?”

Chekov didn’t answer for a moment, staring sadly at his cousin, and pushing a strand of hair out of her sleeping eyes. “You will not say anything?” He asked without looking at Uhura.

She sat down in a chair opposite him, and very seriously answered. “I won’t if you tell me not too.”

Chekov looked up at her, considering.

“I didn’t know you were so cautious.” Uhura realized.

“Often, I have no need to be.” He acknowledged.

“It’s a good trait, considering the amount of determined recklessness that is on the Bridge.”

Chekov laughed. Uhura was happy to see him smile.

“You and the Keptin, you are funny together. I zink he likes troubling you.”

Uhura rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how right you are. Sometimes I just want to take his big inflated head, and shake it until he pops.”

He laughed again, and she smiled with him. As his laughter settled down again, he turned his attention to the young girl once again.

“I am glad she is here on Enterprise. Do you think we can bring all my family on board?”

“Her brothers and her mother? Probably. Spock and Jim would definitely make it happen if there’s reason for it. Do you think they are in danger?”

“Yes.”

Uhura nodded, taking the situation very seriously, but cautious about what questions to ask. “Alright. Should we tell security?”

“Don’t tell the space station security! I do not trust them.”

“You alerted us that your family had been attacked, but not the station’s security. Why don’t you trust them?”

“Because they are the ones that kidnapped Svetlana.”

Uhura took a breath. This was a whole different can of worms than she expected it to be. She needed to tell Jim and Spock.

“They kidnapped her?”

“Yes, zey came into my aunt’s home, and took her. Zey’ve been threatening my aunt for many weeks. My mother is very scared and worried for them. I am very scared and worried.”

Uhura almost asked, Why didn’t you say something sooner? But that would have sounded accusing. She carefully chose her words. “Then let’s get your family out of there. Do you know why they were being threatened?”

This time Chekov was reluctant again, pausing and looking around the room to make sure no one was paying attention, before secretly answering, “My aunt owes money. Much money.”

“To who?”

“I…do not know who.” Chekov looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. “But it is someone powerful. He, I mean, this person has control over many people on the space station.”

“Alright. Then let’s get your family off of there right away. Stay with her, I’ll take care of it.” Spock would probably have Giotto send several Enterprise security officers to escort the family off of the space station. And she needed to find Jim. This changed the atmosphere of their visit completely.

\---

Jim still couldn’t find Bones, and he was getting worried. But at least space station security was looking into it.

Shralev’s people had wanted the vaccine right away, and to his dismay, Spock had told him that Enterprise had no left over stock. All of their vaccine had been used up. There might be one left in Bones’ medbag, but Jim did not know which of the many vials in that bag was the right one. He had almost handed the whole bag over to the space station’s medical crew, but held back because Bones was never comfortable with anyone else touching his supplies. So Jim had beamed the bag back to Enterprise and asked Chapel to find the right one.

\---

Christine Chapel stumbled awake at the call. It was a page for a non-medical emergency, but it was coming from command. “H-hello?”

“Nurse Chapel.” It was Commander Spock. Chapel was suddenly embarrassed by her tangled hair and lack of bra, even though the comm was audio only. Spock certainly took no notice. “We would like you to investigate Dr. McCoy’s supplies. There is an urgent need for a copy of the Brogun vaccine, and we are attempting to find a copy in the doctor’s personal medical bag. I would ask Dr. M’Benga, but Jim insisted that it be you.”

“Dr. McCoy’s medical bag? He can’t find it himself?”

“His current whereabouts are unknown. We are not sure yet if there is cause for concern.”

That woke Christine up, more than anything else. “Dr. McCoy is missing?”

“Yes. And there has also been a break out of Brogun fasciitis on the space station.” If Spock was tired or worn out, his voice didn’t show it. “Expediency in finding a copy of the vaccine would be beneficial. Will you be able to do this task?”

“Yes, absolutely. I’ll arrive at Medical shortly.”

\---

Walking back to Captain Shralev’s command room, and rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm, Jim saw a glimpse of a black figure slipping through a corridor. For just a moment, he thought it was Bones.

Jim’s head snapped to look again, but the man was already gone. It had just been a figure covered in black that he had seen out of the corner of his eyes, and it had vanished suspiciously quickly. There was no way he could have recognized it as Bones, or even as human, but something about the way the figure had moved, Jim had thought for an instance that it was Bones and his broad shoulders sneaking around the corner.

Jim jogged over to the shadowed corridor, and saw it was empty. But a few meters in, amongst the grime and filth that Jim still couldn’t believe was on a Federation station, he found a wobbly panel. The bolts on it had been loosely screwed back on, and Jim was able to pull it off and look inside. Inside was no circuitry or storage tank, but a Jeffery’s tube. And a pair of boots had been abandoned beside the panel.

\---

Reaper climbed up the ladder steps in the Jeffery’s tube, finally reaching the panel for his guest room. With a sigh, not sure how to handle the situation left with Kheje Blumkrest, he pushed the panel open, and crawled through.

“Halt! Stop right there, or we’ll shoot!”

The lights flashed on, and Bones froze, one knee on the carpet, the other foot still on the ladder. There were three station security officers in the guest room, all pointing phasers at him.

“Don’t move! Crawl onto the floor and lay down.”

Reaper could push back out the Jeffery’s tube, let himself fall down 20 meters and run. But then he wouldn’t just be Reaper running away, he would be Leonard McCoy resisting arrest. He could kill them all, and then…then what? Three dead security guards in Leonard McCoy’s rooms. That would be incriminating.

“Lay down, sir!”

He didn’t know what if they were just arresting him for crawling through a Jeffery’s tube unauthorized, or for something else. Attacking could make matters worse. Mouth pressed into a flat, unhappy line, Bones chose to stay. He laid down on the carpet, and let himself be restrained.


End file.
